


labradorescence

by LunaChi_KuroShihone



Series: out of the corner of your eye [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Developing Relationship, Dorks in Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Existential Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hasetsu, Inspired By, M/M, Makka is a good girl, Phichit Mention, Sad Victor Nikiforov, Tentacle Demon, Tentacles, Walks On The Beach, Yuri On Festival, Yuuri is a squid!demon, Yuuri is worried, squid!demon Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-06-27 11:58:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15684993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaChi_KuroShihone/pseuds/LunaChi_KuroShihone
Summary: It wasn't even that Yuuri had grown up different from other children: he's had a perfectly normal childhood, thank you very much, and perfectly normal teen years -- if obsessing over his idol could be called 'perfectly normal', but Yuuri would rather crawl behind a rock and die than analyze the depths of his childhood crush on Viktor Nikiforov.Almost none of the other kids his age knew about it anyhow and he's never even considered it to be something different, until Nishigori had found out and avoided him with fear in his eyes for a whole month.(It was until Yuuko had confronted him about it, and scolded him, because Yuuri was still Yuuri: laughed at in school for doodling Yuuri Nikiforov into his notebooks, with hearts and poodles next to the name.)Yuuri had smiled at them, crouched down and touched the surface of the water -- that was the day Nishigori had been introduced to what undoubtedly was Yuuri's other parent: a crawling and winding mass of black-brown-reds with flashes of blue and blinding yellows that waved at them from the depths of the water around the Hasetsu beach.--A Yuri on Ice AU in which everything is 95% the same, only Yuuri is a squid demon by happenstance





	1. Blue Night

**Author's Note:**

> soooo... for everyone who's following me from the Fate/ side of things: if you've been wondering where I was, I kinda had an anxious breakdown and avoided social media for a while, and YoI has helped me out a lot, bc holy, can I relate to Yuuri or not? Anyways, I'm feeling much better now, thankfully! I've not given up on Café, it is my baby, but I still need time.
> 
> ... and now for something else. I've fallen into YoI hell, and my first fic for this fandom turns out to be a Yuri on Festival meets SCP Foundation-esque angst fic. Yay me.

Yuuri Katsuki has never been afraid of darkness and the terror that lurks within it; not of the time of night when not even stars were enough to illuminate the earth, nor of the shades and forms that used the cover of night for their own. Not in his hometown, where the wind carried the sea and something more sinister, nor in Detroit, where the lowest of the low would wait him out for late night practices, and would try to mug him and assault him. He didn't need help or protection, as Celestino and Phichit had thought, and he wasn't scared of walking through rain or mist when the sun disappeared.

 

No, sometimes, Yuuri seemed to bask in it; the last rays of the sun that would color the world red and purple before it inevitably faded to blacks and blues, and his eyes would glow eerie in the evening light, golden-red and sharp.

 

(It was times like these that Phichit saw Yuuri for more than he seemed -- for more than he let himself be seen; by almost everyone except select few individuals, which the Thai skater could count himself amongst, a few months later.)

 

Yuuri had been chosen, back when he'd been nothing but a small toddler and had found his way to the shores of the Hasetsu beach in the middle of the longest night of the year. His parents had been none the wiser, looking after Mari and the onsen as Yuuri had wandered to the sandy coast, fascinated by the darkness already.

 

Yuuri doesn't speak much of that day, and neither Mari or his parents or most of the townsfolk who were out and about had borne witness to it, except for Nanaya-san, who swore until his dying breath that little Yuuri-kun had waved at the darkness and the darkness had waved back: _languidly, effortlessly and indescribable,_ a mass of something had risen out of the water, and not moved.

 

So no, Yuuri has never been afraid of the dark, or of the things lurking in the corner of his eyes, because he grew up visiting the shrines of Hasetsu every month while the priests would wave their incense over him, to drive evil and wayward spirits away from him.

 

(Sometimes, Yuuri wondered if he'd been _different_ , if that fateful night hadn't happened.)

 

Yuuri had grown up knowing and speaking with the darkness, and the darkness had grown to like him and to protect him; it wasn't inherently good or evil, but it simply was: a state of being, a phase, a wisp of the night.

 

It wasn't even that Yuuri had grown up different from other children: he's had a perfectly normal childhood, thank you very much, and perfectly normal teen years -- if obsessing over his idol could be called 'perfectly normal', but Yuuri would rather crawl behind a rock and die than analyze the depths of his childhood crush on Viktor Nikiforov.

Almost none of the other kids his age knew about it anyhow, so the knowledge of it was something closely guarded by the older generation and Yuuri and his close friends and family, and he's never even considered it to be something different -- something _above human_ \-- until Nishigori had found out and avoided him with fear in his eyes for a whole month.

 

(It was until Yuuko had confronted him about it, and scolded him, because Yuuri was still Yuuri: laughed at in school for doodling _Yuuri Nikiforov_ into his notebooks, with hearts and poodles next to the name.)

 

Yuuri still struggled with anxiety; Yuuri still wanted to skate rather than do ballet, so Nishigori approached him a month later at the shores of the beach with Yuuko, an apology on his lips.

 

Yuuri had smiled at them, crouched down and touched the surface of the water -- that was the day Nishigori had been introduced to what undoubtedly was Yuuri's other parent: a crawling and winding mass of black-brown-reds with flashes of blue and blinding yellows that waved at them from the depths of the water around the Hasetsu beach.

 

(That was when Nishigori knew he had become part of something that would change his life if not forever, at least somehow; most of the towns and cities at the sea might pray to Shachihoko, but as Nishigori watched the mass descend into the water, he knew that from then on, he'd give the statue at the station more than a stationary glance.)

 

The darkness would forever be a part of Yuuri, even as he decided to leave Hasetsu for Detroit; and while his primary reason for leaving his country were because of his skating career, it would be a lie to say that Yuuri had wanted to distance himself from the sea and all that it stood for: Yuuri was different, not fully human ever since he touched the darkness, filled with something that left him on the edge of perception. Yuuri wanted it all gone, when he was eighteen and felt as if Hasetsu was growing shackles around him and the priests were growing frantic. He wanted something fresh and new; somewhere far away where no one knew that there was a veneer of a lie wound around what was _Katsuki Yuuri,_ somewhere were he could be simply another human.

 

Of course, trying to distance and discard something that had been a part of someone for over fifteen years wasn't easy, and after two years of lackluster skating and more frequent panic attacks and bad days than Yuuri wanted to count, Phichit had found him staring across the Detroit River with a forlorn expression. The Thai had approached his roommate cautiously, and then Yuuri had simply sighed, tension leaving his shoulders and lines melting, as something black and writhing with electric blue stripes had shifted into reality, and his eyes had turned red-golden again.

 

(Phichit was less surprised than either of them thought, which in turn surprised them more than the reality before them: Phichit was the first person Yuuri had told outside of Hasetsu, and doing so lifted something heavy from the Japanese skater. Phichit accepted him, _all of him_ , even if he was still afraid, and Yuuri felt that maybe, maybe his disillusioned thoughts from two years ago were unfounded; obviously, often-repeated by Phichit, Yuuri still was fully human -- he simply was _more_ human than others. He was something fantastical and incredible and scary all in one, and Yuuri smiled and maybe cried a little.)

 

The only other person to find out -- other than some frat boys and hockey players who would wake up the day later thinking it nothing more than dreams -- was Ketty, and it had happened through such an accident that she didn't want to talk to him for over a month, mortified beyond reason until Phichit talked to her and they barged into his room and applied puppy (and hamster) therapy.

 

(They think Yuuri doesn't know that after the first night with Phichit, the Thai skater had gone into shock and denial about what happened, and had curled up in his room out of fright; like a cornered animal, exposed to its predator. Ketty was the same, only she'd fallen into research to find out if what she'd seen could be proven logical or not, until Phichit sat her down and shivered his way through an explanation. Both had started to shut down every time they as much thought about the limbs and darkness, keeping up a front as much for Yuuri's sake as their own, until -- months later -- they had grown used to it.

 

Yuuri knew, but never talked to them about it, appreciating their efforts. Both came around later, after all; that's all that mattered to him.)

 

By the time the Sochi Grand Prix rolled around, Yuuri had come to peace with himself and everything that had to do with the night at the Hasetsu beach: he was Yuuri Katsuki, human, but he also was Yuuri Katsuki, _something more_. Once or twice, he's had meetings with others similar to him; beings that hide under a mask of humanity and that condense and trap their true selves until they are unhappy and bitter with their lives, minds open but at the same not to his senses. And beings that chose to stay on the other side of perception and simply watched without interfering, their minds barely decipherable to Yuuri, despite having lived almost all his life selected by one.

 

It was so easy to fall into the same pattern as those first ones, but Yuuri held onto the silver lining of their distinction: he was born human, and they were not.

 

After the failure at Sochi, and his bombing of the Nationals, Yuuri returned to Hasetsu with a sense of shame and humility. He hadn't set foot into the town since he'd left, but was welcomed back as if he'd only been gone yesterday: most of the faces of his youth that he remembered as disapproving or condescending or pitying were simple glances he'd maybe misinterpreted in his foolish quest for identity.

 

Yuuri had left Hasetsu wishing to be human and nothing more, but came back with the knowledge that he was different but that it was _okay._

 

(Of course, then the triplets happened, and Yuuri should know more than to trust children who interacted with the darkness in the sea as he did, and a day later _Viktor Nikiforov_ was _there_.)

 

Viktor, who over the spring and early summer months grew from idol to coach to friend, after that fateful talk at the Hasetsu beach, with black-brown-red hovering in the corner of Yuuri's eye, ready to interfere if necessary.

 

Viktor, who looked at Yuuri as if he'd hung the moon in the sky and called him _little sun_ and _my gold_ and _my star_ ; Viktor, who had come to Hasetsu looking lost and alone and had found his family in Yuuri's. Viktor, who would listen patiently as Yuuri explained his anxiety and who'd stay with him up late at the rink; who'd greet every fisherman and passersby with a grin and smile, but would reserve the heart-shaped ones just for Yuuri. Viktor, who would give him kisses on his forehead and his hand and who'd drape himself all over Yuuri or snuggle into his arms.

 

Viktor, who had passed being a friend a long time ago, but who held himself back because Yuuri was _afraid._ His family was one thing, and Yuuko and Phichit and Ketty were another, but Yuuri was sure that he'd rather keep this fragile balance they had if even the thought of Viktor being afraid or scared or horrified tore at his heart painfully.

 

(Viktor, who would look at Yuuri with such softness and vulnerability that the younger skater wanted to do nothing more but sweep him up into thousands of blankets and keep him safe and sound.)

 

Yuuri knew his time had run out when Viktor had kissed him on the threshold of his room, tipsy on alcohol and laughter from the preparations for the Tanataba festival. By the time the shock had registered, Viktor had already seen it flash across his face, and the Russian's expression fell rapidly, cracking.

 

"I'm sorry-- Yuuri. It doesn't - it doesn't have to _mean--"_ Viktor's voice hitched, strained. "Ignore it, please. I'm sorry."

 

Yuuri's heart was close to breaking, hearing Viktor so small and uncertain -- he wanted nothing more than to kiss back, to leap over the invisible line they'd drawn, but.

 

But.

 

The uncertainty preserved, and with one last, longing look, Yuuri _bolted_.

 

_Idiot. Idiot. Idiot._

His mind screamed. _You are an idiot. You don't deserve him! Look what you did! This is worse than making him cry-! Ungrateful, stupid, arrogant --_

__

_not the same, not the sameDiFf **ERe** nt._

 

Yuuri slowed down, his breath hitching and coming in puffs, glancing behind himself to make sure nobody followed.

 

"I'm terrible," it was a whisper. "Utterly, unbelievably, stupidly terrible..." His voice wavered and died as Yuuri took a deep breath, slowly calming down. He'd wandered down to the Hasetsu beach, to the small alcove were no passersby should find him at this time in the night.

 

Another shudder escaped Yuuri's lips, and he started shivering.

 

_DiFfE_ R **e _ntD_** iFfE _Re **ntD** iFfER **ent**_

d  i   f   f  e  r  e  n _t  n o t h_ u m  a n   _enough_

 

Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut with his palms, wishing the voices would _shut up_ for once.

 

He glanced back to the street again. "If Viktor comes… I'll tell him. Everything."

 

(That was what Yuuri said, but still Viktor didn't show up for the longest time, each minute passing making Yuuri only more anxious and worried than the last. They had been toeing around with their affection and love for the past month at every given opportunity, and Yuuri had almost _forgotten_ , that he was not... the same. And that Viktor could be as terrified as the thugs and lowlife of Detroit that would try to scare him off in the darkness. Yuuri whimpered. He couldn't lose Viktor, not after everything.)

 

The Russian found him in the darkest hour of the night, Makkachin next to him and a soft fleece blanket in his hands. He looked defeated, with circles under his eyes and a sad frown on his lips, and Yuuri _ached_ to touch him gently, and to card his fingers through tousled hair.

 

Instead he kept his hands by him, close to his heart as Viktor stood there like a lost pup, not knowing what to do.

 

"I'm sorry Yuuri," he started, _again_ , as if it was Viktor's fault that Yuuri was terrified out of his mind, and not his alone.

 

"I thought- I don't- I won't-- _...I'm sorry_ -"

 

"Viktor," the other skater started, unable to hear the self-hatred in the inflection any more. _None of this should have happened,_ he thought, but what he said was, "sit down, Viktor."

 

The Russian sat down, hands still holding the fleece blanket, so Yuuri took it out of them and draped it over shaking shoulders, holding the front closed. "I'm going to tell you something -- I've never told this to anyone before, so listen, please. And then - I'll show you something, and tell you some more." Yuuri's hands were shaking, but his gaze never left Viktor's. "Listen, and don't interrupt me, because I don't think I'll be able to continue if you do. And afterwards, if- _if you still want to stay,_ then… okay. But please, listen first."

 

 

Viktor had started to protest, and Yuuri shoved him a wry and watery smile, having already anticipated such a response. Really, sometimes Viktor could be so predictable.

 

At the other's nod, Yuuri straightened, his gaze wandering back to the sea.

 

No black-brown-red in the darkness today; all of this fell onto Yuuri's shoulders.

 

"...when I was a toddler, I somehow managed to make my way from all across the onsen to the beach, where I sat and played in the sand in the middle of the night. One of the fishermen saw me, and called my parents, who were already worried sick after they noticed I was nowhere to be found. The fisherman told them I was playing by the waves and with something in the water that kept me entertained until my parents came, which sounds about right."

 

Viktor blinked, but kept silent.

 

"The- the something turned out to be, my father looked at it, a giant black squid -- that's what everyone remembers, but. Well. It's a demon, some people say, but apparently it had simply waved its' arms around to entertain me, until mom and dad came. That's pretty common knowledge around Hasetsu, actually. Maybe you know it already… What no one else but me knows, though, is --" Yuuri took a deep breath, eyes resting on Makkachin as he crouched down to pet the poodle. "It's that..."

 

Makka whined. Yuuri looked up, his eyes flashing in the starless night. "I died. That night, I mean. Or, I should have died somewhere between the onsen and the bridge from the cold, but the darkness kept me awake. It guided me to ...the _black-brown-red_ \- the giant squid - and it likes children, it really does, because its so old and alone, so it kept my life going, and choose me. But it, well, I'm not -- its not. It doesn't have a human mind or human morale, so it didn't know what it would do to me, and I was small enough to not being able to resist as it- gave me a new life. Or, the old one back; sometimes I don't know."

 

"Yuuri..." Viktor's voice was a caress as he stared at the skater, the word slipping out unbidden. Yuuri smiled again, softly, as something around him _shifted_ , and Viktor's vision was filled with black and electric blue, curling and winding around Yuuri's form as if it had always been there.

 

(For all that Viktor knew, it had; if what Yuuri had just told wasn't just a children's tale.)

 

Yuuri stood up from the crouch as Makka panted, her tongue lolling out and tail thumping -- his movements even more languid and fluent than normal, as he skimmed over one of those with a wider tip with his palm. "When I turned four these appeared for the first time, and everyone was terrified; I've always been an unnaturally still child, but I wasn't even surprised, unlike Mari and Minako-sensei. We had gone to the temple up the hill, and a priest had performed an exorcism, but it hadn't done anything other than making me uncomfortable." A sardonic smile crossed his face. "That had gone on for a few days, until Mari snapped at them because they clearly weren't doing anything, and I seemed to have full control over the limbs. I actually started ballet because it helped me center myself, and I had to learn to control ten extra arms." A pause. "Well. Eight arms and two tentacles, if I want to be specific."

 

Yuuri took another deep breath, and extended one of the tentacles towards Viktor, who blinked, stunned. "Outside of my family and Minako-sensei only the Nishigoris, and Phichit and Ketty have more than only passing knowledge about this."

 

He waited.

 

Viktor took a deep breath and glanced at Makkachin, who was still wagging her tail excitedly. His hand hovered in front of the tentacle, fingers just shy of touching it.

 

This was... a lot.

 

Viktor wasn't an idiot by any means, and he'd noticed how the older townsfolk would gaze at Yuuri, or how the statue at the station was kept exceptionally tidy and neat, but he'd never thought that Yuuri's reluctance and push and pull of their tentative relationship would end in something that sounded (and looked like, because he'd been fucking terrified for a second there) like something out of a Lovecraftian Horror Story.

 

It was very much a lot.

 

The outstretched limb hovered in front of him, almost unsure as it started curling in on itself, as if it was about to withdraw, and with one last glance and a deep shudder, Viktor reached for it.

 

It was surprisingly soft and pliant in his hand, tentatively winding around his fingers as the Russian watched, fascinated. There were suction cups tapering until the end, and faint blue lines that glowed in the moonless night. Viktor's gaze returned to Yuuri, who was watching him with wary hope --

 

To think that Yuuri had been worried about something this big -- his mind refused to continue the thought, instead focusing on Yuuri's outline, where tentacles met his body in a haze. It was strange to look at, how the limbs simply seemed to appear out of thin air, yet still connected to his torso, shifting around and _across and between and over and_

 

_and_

_and_

_a n d_

 

"Don't force it," Yuuri cautioned. "If you do, you'll get a migraine; Minako-sensei learned it with trial and error."

 

Viktor blinked once. Twice. Hard.

And he simply let his gaze slide off the haze and back to his… lover's(?) face. He smiled softly, tugging at his mouth.

 

"Is this okay?"

 

"What?" Viktor smiled back. _What would be wrong?_

 

a tug at his hand reminded him that he currently was holding a _tentacle_ in it, which had grasped his fingers loosely, suction cups nibbling at his skin. "All of this? Is this okay, Viktor?"

 

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Yes."

Viktor's gaze was still transfixed at the curled tentacle, which was glowing in rhythm with his pulse, very mesmerizing. It really was _pretty,_ in a way he'd never thought to describe something ...tentacle-y; all of them were, with their dark color and blue splashes and lines littered across them, glowing brighter and brighter the longer Viktor stared at them.

 

Of course everything was fine. How did that idiom go? Everything's fine and dandy? Because yes, everything was fine and dandy, and Viktor was all right, really--

 

the tentacle started to withdraw from his field of vision, and his grip automatically tightened on it, and then there were _hands_ suddenly gripping his shoulders and forcing him to sit down, and when had he gotten up in the first place? Yuuri's worried expression was the next thing that greeted him, brown eyes wide behind his glasses.

 

"You're going into shock, Viktor."

 

Was he? Oh. Maybe.

 

Yuuri told him to breathe, and he followed along dutifully, never quite letting go of the tentacle in his hand, until Yuuri opened his clenched fist and withdrew it, wincing slightly. Then there was another reality-distorting slide, and the tentacles disappeared back to wherever they came from.

 

Viktor felt himself _breathing_ again; he hadn't noticed how tense he'd gotten while they were still visible. Yuuri's hands were rubbing soothing circles into his shoulders and Makka whined softly, nosing at his tight. With a deep shudder, he leaned forward, letting gravity decide his direction, and Yuuri let him fall against his shoulders, a worried sound escaping his lips.

 

"Viktor…?"

 

He huffed. "I'm-- alright. Just give me a minute." His arms fell slack to his sides, trusting Yuuri to hold him while Viktor buried his nose in the other's neck, shuddering again.

 

Yuuri waited patiently.

 

After what felt like eternity, Viktor drew back, letting his forehead rest against the other man's, eyes glancing sideways to Makka. "I seem to have taken it worse than I thought I would. I'm sorry, Yuuri."

 

Makkachin was thumping her tail on the ground again, her tongue lolling out in glee.

Yuuri snorted, drawing back slightly. "Both Nishigori and Ketty had worse reactions than you did. Nishigori's gone catatonic, and Ketty kept away from me for three weeks before Phichit got a hold of her. Your reaction was pretty tame, considering." His eyes softened. "Hey, are you really feeling better?"

 

Viktor closed his eyes slowly. "Yes. I'm nowhere near back to normal, but I'm better." His mouth was suddenly dry, eyes snapping to Yuuri. "But - how are you feeling?"

 

"I'm not the one who suddenly got thrown into a horror movie."

 

Well, that was true. Still.

 

"There's one more thing that I wanted to make sure of tonight," Viktor said. His arms reached up, fingers brushing against Yuuri's cheeks. His gaze lowered, unsure. "You said that _after_ , if I... can I kiss you, Yuuri...?"

 

Yuuri nodded, his own hands tightening their embrace; his head dipped, a smile lighting up his face.

 

"Yes."

 


	2. Aventurescence

Not much changed between coach and skater, though many of their evenings were spent in Viktor's room, leaned against the headboard of Viktor's bed, as the Russian listened with rapt attention to Yuuri talk about the local youkai-like being and his own escapades with the supernatural.

 

"How come people never find it strange?" Viktor had one of the _actual_ tentacles in his hand, fingers massaging around the club in wonder. Yuuri was more-or-less mush against his side, having gone pliant the minute Viktor started his silent exploration.

 

He blinked, burrowing further into Viktor. Who smiled. "Ta-ta, Yuu _ri,_ you promised you'd answer. So; here and in Detroit, how come people never noticed?"

 

"Mn," Yuuri blinked. "Well... it's kind of a strangeness filter? Like, especially in Detroit, people's attention would simply slide off me when they'd noticed me at night, and Japan's kind of superstitious enough that we believe in youkai and the likes, even if we've never seen any before."

 

"I see, so it's Japanese politeness and Americas Willful Ignorance that kept you hidden?" Viktor's voice was teasing, but Yuuri simply shrugged, waving his other tentacle in front of the other's hands. Viktor took it, and begun the same treatment.

 

"Pretty much. I'll admit to having used the strangeness filter -- please don't ask, Phichit named it -- to escape the press once or twice. It's really handy."

 

Viktor snorted; it was an entirely undignified sound, and it escaped him before he could stop it. A blush spread on the bridge of his nose, and Yuuri chose that moment to glance up at him. The younger skater smiled a brilliant smile, which did not help Viktor's situation. At all. He cleared his throat. "So you use your supernatural abilities to escape the press; that's fair. What else?"

 

"Phichit would use me to get into clubs and frat parties we weren't invited to. It proved highly effective."

 

The Russian believed it. It was wonderful, to have gone from their sort-of-almost relationship into an actual-real relationship, even if they'd had to endure their own terrible communication skills and the other skater's reluctance to drag Viktor into the supernatural side of the world.

But it was so damn worth it.

 

Yuuri sometimes still looked at Viktor as if expecting him to bolt, but over the course of the last few day it had become a rare sight -- Viktor did everything in his might to reassure Yuuri that he'd meant everything he'd said about wanting to be together. Yuuri was Yuuri after all; despite knowing he was strong enough to incapacitate three thugs that tried to rob him one evening while he was going back to his dorm from the rink (a feat which Yuuri demonstrated with scary ease on what Viktor was pretty sure had been a stone tanuki like in the springs one upon a time), he was still a blushing mess whenever Viktor kissed him on the cheeks or the corner of his mouth (and getting a smile as a reward).

 

Yuuri was still the same man that enticed him at the banquet all those months ago, as well as the same man who'd taken Viktor to the beach once it had gotten warm enough, where they goofed off for a whole day.

 

A small whimper made it past Yuuri's lips as he huddled even closer to Viktor and shifted into his lap, his remaining limbs twitching and wrapping around his torso. "You're, _ah_ , really good at this."

 

Viktor smiled. His thumbs were pressing into the rubbery skin of two suckers, massaging in a circular motion. "I aim to please," he said, and meant every word of it. What they were doing might have been sexual in its nature any other time, but right now it was simply about showing Yuuri that Viktor wasn't bothered or disgusted by the tentacles, it was simply about Viktor familiarizing himself with this new facet of Yuuri.

 

Simple as that.

 

There was another question emerging, so he voiced it. "Why do they glow sometimes?" He'd seen the electric blue of their first night, and the mellow sky blue of today. One of the tentacles around his torso had started to mimic his massage, and it was drawing circles into his right side, color pulsing softly. Viktor found it endearing how Yuuri didn't seem to notice it, so he made sure to pat the limb affectionately.

 

Yuuri answered. "It kind of depends on my mood, and on how I feel? There's light blue when I'm relaxed and happy," Viktor smiled softly, "and dark, almost blackish blue when I'm very anxious and worried. The more, uh... fluorescent they are, the stronger and deeper the emotion I feel is. Rarely, they shift into reds, but. Well." He shrugged, and Viktor figured that that'd be it for now.

 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, his hands having changed their objective from massaging the tentacles to stroking through Yuuri's hair while he hummed silently, content to simply enjoy the moment.

 

"You know," the black haired skater mused, eyes closed, "you're the only one who isn't weirded out or bothered by them. Or well, you cope better with it than many others did at first."

 

Viktor's hands stilled for barely a second, surprised, before he continued. "How so?"

 

Yuuri shrugged. "The people of Hasetsu either know it and think of it like a demonic possession or they think it's some myth, and when they stare, its uncomfortably close to some kind of worship -- I'm not some youkai or deity; I'm simply Yuuri. Okaasan and Otousan look at them with… guilt, I guess, often, and Minako-sensei and Mari are still wary when the tentacles are present." He sighed. "I know Yuuko means well, but she's also more at ease when they aren't around, and both Phichit and Nishigori always freak out when they appear, even when I warn them -- Peach tries his best, but I can see his knee-jerk _flee_ reaction, even if he's good with all of the other stuff that comes with them."

 

"And Ketty?"

 

"Ketty? She's… she mostly tries to forget they're part of me."

He shrugged again. "You're the first one who touches them with such care without being afraid of them; without ulterior motives."

 

"I know too little of Japanese mythology and am not overtly religious, so I wont suddenly elevate you to some higher state of existence." He scoffed, before his expression softened. "I could never be afraid of you, solnishko." Viktor brushed another strand away. "I love you too much for it."

 

_Even if you were,_ some part of his brain whispered. _At first, and even now sometimes, you are afraid._

 

Viktor ignored it.

This was all about Yuuri today, not him.

 

The skater smiled, a knowing little thing. "Thank you, Viktor." How great it felt, to finally say those words out loud; to acknowledge what had been, what _was_ between them. Yuuri blushed prettily, the tentacles intensifying in their glow and winding around Viktor softly. "I love you too."

 

 


End file.
